Fire Flakes
by Kamikaze Pedestrian
Summary: Assorted Avatar drabbles with different genres and pairings. LATEST UPDATE Mai/Ty Lee, Ozai
1. Reunion: ZukoToph

Zuko waited until halfway into the banquet before steering his steps down to the table where the earthbender girl sat, working her way through the dishes with quite remarkable speed. She was taller, her skin a bit more tanned, witnessing about long days outside under the hot sun of the fire nation. It had been three years since last time.

She could probably sense him approaching, but even when he was so close the cords tying his ceremonial robe together in the front almost dangled in her face, she didn't turn her head.

"You've grown. The years have been good to you," Zuko finally said, greeting her with a short, correct bow.

Toph put the gerbilchicken bone down on her plate and wiped her mouth with the backside of her hand.

"I know. I bet I could take you out one handed now, Wimplord," she said. "By the way, nice sideburns."

Zuko blinked.

"I don't have sideburns."

"Hey, it was a good guess. You know. Me being blind and all." Toph waved her hand impatiently in front of her pale eyes, but the look on her face was amused rather than irritated. "So what is it? A goatee? A mustache?"

"Why don't you look for yourself?" Zuko answered, sitting down beside her on the bench, ignoring her sigh of 'how hard is it to get that I _can't look'_, and lifting her hand to his face.

Toph was quiet for the few seconds it took her to slowly move her fingers across his chin and cheeks. Her hands were rough, the skin dry and hardened, but the fingertips were surprisingly soft despite that, their touch carefully light.

"You have a beard!" she laughed when removed her hands. "And it's a real facewarmer!"

"Is that a compliment?"

"Well, I can't tell if it suits you, but it feels nice. Well trimmed. Though your right side is a bit more uneven than the other. Might wanna work on symmetry a bit."

Zuko smiled to himself. Some things, like sharp tongues and a complete lack of respect, didn't change no matter how many years and coronations went by. Not able to think of anything more to say he fell silent.

He thought Toph had turned her whole attention back to her food, so when she suddenly spoke he almost flinched. Almost. He was the Firelord after all.

"So. Are you and that weapon chick still seeing each other?" Her voice was neutral. A little too neutral.

"And if we are?"

"Good for you." She took another mouthful of chilli rice. "You'll have some scary babies."

She talked with her mouth full, and there was a grain of rice stuck on her chin. It was strangely endearing.

"And if we aren't?" Zuko said, a little lower this time. He reached over and wiped the rice of her face, and when she didn't pull away from his touch he stroke the back of his hand over her cheek, all the way back to her ear. She had pierced her ears, a golden coin sitting in the enlarged hole. The metal gleamed in the torchlight.

Toph turned her head towards him, her eyes staring emptily on a point somewhere above his left shoulder.

"How about you tell me, fire flake?" she said, grinning.

Zuko didn't answer. Instead he took her hand and brought it back to his face, to show her he was smiling.

* * *

Written for **taoempress **for a drabble request meme I had over on my LJ, with the prompt _you've grown. the years have been good to you. _I didn't ship Toph/Zuko before, but now...I see the appeal.


	2. Rope: SokkaSuki

"No. No no no." Sokka shook his head violently, a few strands that had come loose from his ponytail wisping in his face. "You're doing this all wrong."

Suki let go of the knot she'd been tying and turned around slowly, forcing her face into a smile.

"Really? And exactly what is it that we're failing so badly at?"

This wasn't the first time Sokka decided he knew the best way to do things, and Suki had a feeling it wouldn't be the last. It was fun that he'd agreed to go with her and the Kyoshi warriors on a trip around the island to check on the hidden harbors, but it would be even more enjoyable if he didn't feel the urge to prove his manliness every tenth minute. She had thought it was cute the first five times, but now it was starting to get on her nerves.

"The knotwork," Sokka continued, walking over to her. "They aren't tight enough. Here. Let me show you how it's done."

"Sokka, I'm fine. I've done this before." Since she was four years old, to be exact, but he didn't need to know. She did have some compassion for his male ego after all.

"I'm sure you have." He walked past her and with a few swift movements retied her knot fastening the anchor to the ship.

Three seconds later, they watched the anchor disappearing into the water with a loud splash.

"Sokka, you're hopeless!" Suki loved him, sure, but sometimes she wished her boyfriend was a little more practical.

"Hopeless as in possessing a manly charm that overpowers and amazes you?" And sometimes she wished her boyfriend would realise when he wasn't half as witty as he thought he was.

"No, hopeless as in I'm going to tie you to a pole and teach you a lesson if you don't leave me alone and let me do my work."

Sokka's smirk went from ear to ear.

"Hey, I could get behind that."

He managed to duck for the first bundle of rope she hurled at him, but not the second.

* * *

Written for **bloomingcosmo **on LJ. I'm not as pleased with this as I'd like to be, but for a five minute instant drabble written in the comment box, I guess it's okay. 


	3. Prey: AzulaSmellerbee

The girl tasted of blood and fear and her heart beat fast, like a frightened bird. Still, when Azula pulled back from the kiss, after forcing her tongue between dry, unwilling lips, the other girls eyes were looking directly into hers, burning with the will to fight.

Azula tightened her grip around the smaller girls throat, the nails digging into her skin. An untrained, smelly ruffian, nothing more than a peasant, but she did have some guts. You had to give her that.

When she let some heat pass though her palm the girl writhed, little hoarse moans of pain escaping from deep inside her, the sweat running down her face, dripping of her chin and nose. The sight was thrilling, exciting. Leading armies was fun enough, but this -the hunt, the catch, the death throes- couldn't compare to anything. There was nothing like the jolts of electricity going through her blood when she kissed them. When she tasted her victory.

"Aren't you going to beg?" Azula said, her voice low and purring, the girls ear close enough for Azula's lips to brush against the lobe when she spoke. "You could live. We'd keep you alive. Break your hands of course, possibly your feet. But even if it's hard to believe, you are, after all, a woman. I'm sure we could find some use for you in the colony armies."

The girls voice was thin, but the word was easy enough to discern.

"No."

"Good answer," Azula smirked, and kissed her a last time.

* * *

Written as a request over at my LJ, for **ewyounerd. **She originally asked for Azula/Suki but I...uh. Took liberties.


	4. Early Frost: SmellerJetShot

The frost falls early that year. When Smellerbee wakes up she's already shaking and her eyelashes have stuck together. She still cries in her sleep, even now, and the tears freeze on her face, stick to the fuzz on her cheeks.

They move fast, further south, to where the forests are deeper and hopefully warmer. The hunger follows them, prickling on their skin, growling in their innards. It clings to her back, weighing her down and no matter how many times she licks her lips they're still dry and flaking.

Jet keeps his back straight and his steps are light on the frozen ground. Longshot's feet are heavy, steady, always right behind her. He sets the fire in the evenings and makes soup on the almost nothing Jet and Smellerbee can steal in the villages they pass. The soup barely tastes anything at all.

There's always a smile on Jet's lips when he talks, and Smellerbee focuses on that, tries to forget the panicked glint in his eyes. Winter is closing in on them.

Jet sleeps little, eats less. Longshot's hand rests itself on Smellerbee's shoulder and she bites down on the questions, lets them die on the tip of her tongue. There's only so much they can do. Only so much they can be.

The fire is warm in front of her and Jet is warm by her side when they make camp for the night. Smellerbee rests her head carefully against his shoulder, listening to her own pulse beating against her eardrums, pretending it's Jet's. She has almost drowsed off when Longshot speaks, for the first time in months.

"The nights aren't as cold anymore," he says, and Smellerbee jolts awake when she realises he's right. They're getting closer. The south is only days away.

She can feel Jet's laughter shake his body before she hears it, and when she puts a bowl of soup in his hands he drinks all of it in one go. On his other side Longshot's eyes gleam in the light of the fire.

* * *

Written for **saharastorm **on LJ for the prompt _'down this dark, dark lane of rags'._ I'm not entirely sure if I managed to follow her prompt or not. Either way, these are my OT3 for the series. I love the Freedom Fighters to bits.


	5. Knife: AzulaZuko

"Give it back!" Zuko shouts, angry tears burning in the corner of his eyes.

Azula laughs at his protests and holds the knife higher, spins around, attacks the air in a series of quick lunges. She only wanted to look at it for a second, she said, just watch when Zuko held it in front of her. He should have known. Azula always lies.

"What are you going to do to stop me? Shoot a smoke puff?" she mocks, and dangles the knife between her fingers, the sunlight shining in through the windows reflecting in the blade.

"I'll tell mom!"

It's too childish a thing to say when you're already eleven years old, but his sister's mocking smile is replaced by a frown.

"Mom." In Azula's mouth the word becomes an insult.

She seems to hesitate for a second, then puts the knife back in the sheath and waves at him to come and get it. Three steps and he has wrapped his fingers around the smooth object, but just as he's about to turn away again Azula leans forward and presses her lips against his.

Zuko jumps backwards so fast he almost loses his balance.

"Why'd you do that for?" He rubs his lips with the back of his hand, until they burn as much as his cheeks.

"Because you're my brother and I love you very much," Azula says, and her laughter is shrill against the stone walls.

Zuko clutches the knife to his chest, his heart beating fast inside. The tears are running down his face now, falling from his chin and making little dark stains on his shirt, and the anger is stuck in his throat, making it hard to breathe. Azula always lies.


	6. Nothing: Jet

The pain isn't so bad after all, he's been through worse. His body is covered in scars and sometimes his left leg still hurts from that time he missed the tree branch on his way down. There have been other injuries, countless strains and bruises, and he's been proud of them all, little proofs of his victories written on his body. Jet laughs to himself but the chuckle turns into a cough, and he feels his mouth fill with blood. 

The dreams have hurt more than any physical wounds. He remembers waking up in the middle of the night with the smell of burning flesh still lingering in his nostrils, his shirt soaked with sweat. He'll never have another dream like that again. In a way it's a relief. 

Smellerbee has taken off her gloves to stroke his forehead and Jet remembers how her hands feel on other parts of his body, and how different her short, callused fingers are from Longshot's warm and dry palms. He tries to take her hand in his and realizes he's lost all feeling in his arms. 

He thinks about the long days in the hideout during the dry season, about bathing in the pond, about drinking games and silly songs that could keep them laughing for hours. He thinks of The Duke looking at him with eyes filled with awe, of Pipsqueak's laughter echoing among the trees, of Sneers whistling the songs his mother taught him long ago. He thinks of Smellerbee's tears smearing her face paint when she tells him about leaving her parents behind as prisoners. He thinks of the first words Longshot ever spoke to him. If he wasn't too tired to speak he'd remind them about it too. 

Smellerbee is crying now as well. Longshot has put down his bow and his eyes have the saddest look Jet has ever seen. He should tell them that it's alright, tell them that things will be okay as long as they remember why they fight, like he does, has, and always will. There is something else he should tell them too, but his mind is blurry and it's hard to remember. He closes his eyes and there is nothing.


	7. Absolute: OzaiMai

In the Firenation, the Firelords words are absolute.

"If you play your cards well, you will go far," he says, and Mai bows deep before him and the court bows with her.

The firelord's hands are strong and burning hot, but he shoots fire and lightning with icecold precision. His words, too, are precise, short, to the point. They whisper in her ear sometimes, whisper promises and threats and when she lifts her head he has already turned elsewhere. Mai has never looked him in the eye.

She walks down corridors that are dark and deserted, hiding silent words carefully in the folds of her dress, muffling her steps and opening doors without as much as a rustle of the drapes framing them.

In the Firenation, the Firelords words are absolute. In the Firelords bedchamber, his hand is heavy on her neck.


	8. Later: MaiTy Lee

Later, in the cell where the air is humid and heavy, and the stone wall is rough against her back, Mai

Later, in the cell, where the air is humid and heavy and the stone wall is rough against her back, Mai is the first to break the silence. The words come out wrong, a bit too fast, stumbling on each other, and she frowns to herself at the quavering tone.

"I thought you were loyal to her."

"I thought you were, too."

Ty Lee's voice is very, very soft, and her eyes are a little sad. It makes her smile seem gentler, without the usual blinding dazzle. Mai thinks she might prefer it this way, and she doesn't bother to feel guilty. There's no point.

Maybe she should answer. Maybe she should protest, or agree, or ask some of the questions running through her head, but before she has the time to put her half-realized thoughts into coherent sentences, Ty Lee wraps her arms tightly around Mai.

Mai thinks this might be all the answer she needs.


	9. Letters: Ozai

The letters from Iroh come twice every month, the envelopes sealed with bright red wax

The letters from Iroh come twice every month, the envelopes sealed with bright red wax. Ozai traces the relief of the Fire Nation symbol stamped in the hardened mass, pressing the pad of his thumb on the image of the three rising flames, before dropping the letter back on the servant's tray.

His wife is the one to open each letter and read the fluid signs aloud to her children with a smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

When she does, Ozai is never present.

Ozai reads his brother's greetings later in the evenings, in the privacy of his chamber. He reads of the siege of Ba Sing Se that wallows back and forth but never breaks through, of the tedious details of life at the front, of the deep longing for home and family.

He reads of Lu Ten.

Lu Ten's bending improves each day. Lu Ten wins great battles. Lu Ten is a good son. Lu Ten makes his father proud.

Ozai burns each letter with flames so powerful they graze the ceiling.

The only envelope with Iroh's handwriting on the outside he ever opens is sealed with white wax instead of red. There, Ozai reads of earth benders and fierce battling, of casualties and retreats, of horrifying news and hurried burials of loved ones in foreign land. He reads of sorrow so great it can break a man like nothing.

He reads with a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.


End file.
